Rest is an embodied concept worthy of exploration now more than ever — a year which has felt so exhausting and is still asking so much of us all. — Catherine Zack
Hello love!
Deep breath in. There you go. Take another. Take as many as you please. You are here. You are breathing.
Welcome to December.
I’m so curious - what does this month’s theme, that word “rest”, bring up for you?
Rest.
Rest.
Rest.
I for one have several reactions. I have an old, deep story line: “I don’t deserve good rest.” I said that aloud to a dear friend a few months ago. She repeated it back to me, knowing it was a key. A root.
I so often feel, and hear from many others, that there is no time for rest. That we can’t, shouldn’t, won’t.
We all have our own stories around why. We all have our stories as to what work means, what productivity means for our life’s value, what taking a break to rest tells the world about us.
And rest looks different for everyone. Much like the trees.
We turn to nature as always each month to learn what is natural from our oldest and wisest teacher. The seasonal trees of the East Coast are almost bare, their branches scratching the brilliant blue sky. They are what many of us think of when we think of winter - the fallen leaves, naked trees.
But then there are the evergreen trees, their green firs dancing in snow and wind alike all year long. And still yet, there is the bald cypress, an evergreen that despite her category glows burnt orange before dropping her dress to the ground.
All different. Each with unique needs. Each with different modes of rest during winter.
Perhaps you, like me, are the anxious, over-stimulated type who deeply needs to let go of all her leaves and hibernate, embracing the starkness, the emptiness, the dark.
Perhaps you manage seasonal affective disorder or depression and must maintain activity like the evergreen keeps her firs.
Perhaps you must rebel like the bald cypress and let go even if you’re not supposed to (because fuck it).
Whatever your story, whatever your relationship to rest, know that you are deeply deserving of it.
Know that good rest is good medicine.
Know that you need good medicine now more than ever as we bring 2020 to an end.
Rest and Fear
My story of “not deserving good rest” is so deep, so pervasive, the more I investigate it the more I’m convinced it is the root of my years of health issues.
For me, rest is dangerous. It is a failure. It is the opposite of Love. It is Fear.
Ah, our old friend Fear. The one who greets me each morning with a lump in my throat and a burn in my stomach.
Yes, the relationship is deep.
You see, if I don’t “do” anything, if I take the time to rest, if I’m not productive that day, what arises is fear. Fear of who I am if I’m not doing. Fear of what I’m worth. Fear that I’m not worth anything.
Oof. Powerful. Damaging. FALSE.
Regardless, powerful story lines must be embraced and recognized to have any chance of changing.
If we can sit with our stories, we can take them apart.
My new favorite way to think about fear and managing it, not by silencing her but by making her feel safe, was introduced to me in a Studio Visit conversation between Suleika Jaouad and Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love and City of Girls.
I highly recommend reading the full blog post, but here is Liz in an excerpt on fear:
I've also changed my relationship with fear. I speak to it very lovingly. I have a lot of compassion for it as an entity. Over time, I’ve realized that this isn't a glitch in me. This is a built-in; this came right out of the factory. Fear has an evolutionary mission, which is, “Do not do something new, or that we don't know the outcome of—because it could end in death.” Fear is always going to be present when you try to do anything creative because creativity asks you to try something new, and you don't know what the outcome will be…
If you guys don't believe me—that I have to work on my fear all the time—this journal is filled with conversations between love and fear. So the way that it happens is that I will let fear speak first, out of respect. So this is, “Dear Liz, I'm your fear. This is what I want to tell you today.” It's like nonviolent communication. Everyone is allowed in the room, and everyone is allowed a voice, and everyone listens to each other respectfully.
So I'm the mediator. I invite fear to come in first. I'm not going to read this to you because it's super intimate. But this is a long list of fears, going on for three pages. And then, because I actually think the antidote to fear is not courage but love, I ask love to come in. Unconditional love. The great mother. Cosmic love. The divine feminine.
That lays the groundwork for me to safely create—because I know that love will not abandon me no matter what.
Love will not abandon us no matter what.
I can do nothing but sit on my ass all day and I am still loved.
I can fail and make bad choices and end up living alone under a bridge, and I am still loved.
Love is our good medicine.
And we can finally rest when fear is seen, feels safe, is loved. We seem to require safety to actually rest - mentally, physically, emotionally.
So I invite you to try, in this transition of late fall/not quite winter into the slow season, letting go of your fear of rest. Letting go of being afraid of fear.
See if you can rest in it.
I feel like I just asked you to walk across a tightrope over a mountain gorge blindfolded. Welcome fear?! In 2020?! In this economy?! You want me to sit with this shit more than I already am? Feel more than I already feel?
In short - yes. I think you are brave enough. In fact, I know you are.
But it is unfair of me to raise this without supporting you. Above all, that is the intention of this Love Letter - to give you the tools you need as we investigate these intense concepts and skills together. To offer thoughts on not only what we’re dealing with, but how.
And how else?
We practice.
Practice
Practice this month’s meditation offering which features a strategy called noting, helping us get some distance from thoughts and feelings that can so often originate from or promote fear. (please forgive the audio quality - I seriously underestimated editing time & am on the hunt for real recording equipment!)
Try Liz’s journaling exercise - a conversation between Love and Fear.
Begin with Fear, perhaps “Hello, it’s me Fear and I am afraid…”
Answer with Love, maybe beginning with “Hello, it’s me Unconditional Love and I am right here…”
Join me weekday mornings on Instagram TV for my Poems for the People series. Right now we’re meditating on Mary Oliver’s Pulitzer prize-winning collection American Primitive to remind us of all the natural wonder we live among. Of all the natural beauty we are.
I would love to hear how your practice goes! Please reach out to me anytime (simply respond to this email), especially if you need or want additional support.
I am sending you love all ways, always.
In good rest,
Colby